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I haven't finished reading this yet - I've been reading it off and on, on my Kindle - but I'm doing a mini-write-up before I utterly forget all that came before.
It's the autobiography of an American pioneer, full of lively and sometimes horripilating details. He starts out in the East, where life sounds fairly decent but the earth is hard to cultivate, and then his family moves to Wisconsin, where life sounds great. This part is full of excellent details on life, food, work, social mores, etc. Then they all hear that life is even better in California. Plus, there's gold! Uh-oh.
He and some buddies go ahead of the general party to scout. They run into some Indians, and despite the buddy's reluctance, Manly hauls them all to go have a chat. Neither party speaks the other's language, but they communicate pretty well with gestures and drawings. They trade food and horses, then Manly explains their intended route west. The conversation proceeds, more or less, as follows:
Indian: "WTF!!! Are you serious?! THAT way???"
Manly: "Um, yes. Is there a problem with that?"
Indian: "Oh hell yes. There's no water for BILLIONS OF MILES."
Manly (to buddy): "Let's try a different route."
Buddy: "You can't trust Indians! Ignore him. He's probably trying to lead us into a trap."
Manly: "I dunno. He's been friendly so far. Plus, he lives here and we don't. It's possible he knows the land better than we do."
Buddy: "Never trust an Indian!"
Indian: "BILLIONS OF MILES. NO WATER."
Manly: "Thanks for the horses!"
Buddy: "Onward to Death Valley!"
I realize that the conversation as depicted in the book may have been informed by hindsight, but it remains one of the best bits of ironic foreshadowing I've come across, whether or not it actually happened. (And no, it was not actually named Death Valley until after most of their party died there.)
I've just gotten to the part where Manly and a different buddy have left most of the party behind in Death Valley, and pressed on by themselves in the hope of bringing back help. The descriptions of the desert and its privations are marvelous: great cubes of rock salt like blocks of ice, wine-red alkaline lakes, dirt soft as flour. They brought dried beef from the oxen they had to slaughter, but despite their hunger, their mouths are so dry that they can't swallow, and they finally spit out their mouthfuls of jerky and lie down for the night, wondering if they'll wake up.
Free on Kindle: Death Valley in '49
Hard copy: Death Valley in '49: The Autobiography of a Pioneer
It's the autobiography of an American pioneer, full of lively and sometimes horripilating details. He starts out in the East, where life sounds fairly decent but the earth is hard to cultivate, and then his family moves to Wisconsin, where life sounds great. This part is full of excellent details on life, food, work, social mores, etc. Then they all hear that life is even better in California. Plus, there's gold! Uh-oh.
He and some buddies go ahead of the general party to scout. They run into some Indians, and despite the buddy's reluctance, Manly hauls them all to go have a chat. Neither party speaks the other's language, but they communicate pretty well with gestures and drawings. They trade food and horses, then Manly explains their intended route west. The conversation proceeds, more or less, as follows:
Indian: "WTF!!! Are you serious?! THAT way???"
Manly: "Um, yes. Is there a problem with that?"
Indian: "Oh hell yes. There's no water for BILLIONS OF MILES."
Manly (to buddy): "Let's try a different route."
Buddy: "You can't trust Indians! Ignore him. He's probably trying to lead us into a trap."
Manly: "I dunno. He's been friendly so far. Plus, he lives here and we don't. It's possible he knows the land better than we do."
Buddy: "Never trust an Indian!"
Indian: "BILLIONS OF MILES. NO WATER."
Manly: "Thanks for the horses!"
Buddy: "Onward to Death Valley!"
I realize that the conversation as depicted in the book may have been informed by hindsight, but it remains one of the best bits of ironic foreshadowing I've come across, whether or not it actually happened. (And no, it was not actually named Death Valley until after most of their party died there.)
I've just gotten to the part where Manly and a different buddy have left most of the party behind in Death Valley, and pressed on by themselves in the hope of bringing back help. The descriptions of the desert and its privations are marvelous: great cubes of rock salt like blocks of ice, wine-red alkaline lakes, dirt soft as flour. They brought dried beef from the oxen they had to slaughter, but despite their hunger, their mouths are so dry that they can't swallow, and they finally spit out their mouthfuls of jerky and lie down for the night, wondering if they'll wake up.
Free on Kindle: Death Valley in '49
Hard copy: Death Valley in '49: The Autobiography of a Pioneer